Rain is my constant companion. Although nearing mid-May, I continue to carry wood to keep the fire burning in the kitchen stove. I refuse to wear a coat outdoors. The mud sticks to my shoes, and I abandoned my garden gloves. However, it’s the best time for planting because the black flies don’t like the rain, and it is less traumatic for plants to transition from pots to moist earth. My drenched shirt clings to my skin. I prefer rain to bugs. The water that drips from the end
I was raised in what most would consider a traditional, rural New England family. When Christmastime rolled around, we would scurry about with both handmade and store-bought decorations, lights, and many other assorted sparkly things.
We were all about the music, at least I know that I was. My father had a spectacular voice and would not hold back. With a twinkle in his eye, he sang along with Ray Conniff, Glenn Miller, and the others from his era.
During these times of blu
Down from the Tree - Book Three Samuel J. Hodgdon II
A Boy ~ A Vision ~ A Knowing Tree
The Journey Continues